A Wordstorm

I woke up to raining words for the past couple of weeks.  A flood.  Everywhere I looked, they were falling from the sky.  It was an abundance of thoughts collecting in puddles around me.  Even if I wanted to stop them, it was beyond my control.  The weather within me is like that sometimes.  I’m unable to prevent a story as it spills from me.  Sentence after sentence falling from my fingertips, a thunderstorm of movement along the keyboard until “bam,” a story has been created!

When I write, I dare…to imagine, to push all limits, to express untapped feelings, to consider.  I say it and then I work really hard to say it better.  It can be a wonderful experience, but also exhausting.  That is exactly where I am at this moment, exhausted. 

The short story that I wrote is about as good as it’ll get.  My daughter and her friends are coming to town this weekend and I have an idea for a cover.  I’ll need to see if they’ll help me out.  So it’s time to dust off my camera and work a bit of magic.  Places, lights, now say “cheese.” 

Are you ready for a short story that I intend to serve as a bit of an appetizer to the next full coarse novel that I’ve been working on for over a year?   That is my intention, 20 pages with the possibility of an added chapter to be posted here on my blog. 

Sometimes the process is thrilling but other times showcasing a huge part of my soul like that is really quite daunting.  Not everyone will be in agreement.  Some will just say “average” while others will say, “great” and a select group will always say “horrible.” It all stings, well mostly all of it since my skin has always leaned a bit on the thin side.  Instead of stars, Amazon ought to have bee stings because maybe if an author is stung enough they’ll get used to the ouch. 
 

Ever since I was in the second grade and ol’ Iron Pants (my teacher) laid into me for combining the color red with orange I cringe when I present my work.  Granted red and orange may not have been the most suitable choices as far as color themes are concerned…but, BUT what sort of person lays into a little kid in such a bullying way?  I’ve grown to better understand that people who mistreat others are really living in their own sort of hell.  It must be miserable to be them. 

I found it ironic how many years later when we bought a 1950’s home and we pulled up the flooring in the kitchen we learned the layer below was covered in a pattern of orange and red.  Apparently, the person who designed the pattern would have benefited from Iron Pants as their teacher.

My point is, junk or treasure…an eye sore or beauty…  I plan on publishing the short on Amazon as soon as possible…so do tell and mention what you think after…but please be kind.  Your words are the fuel for most independent authors to write more or to run for shelter until the next word storm passes.  “Chumz,” look for it!

Well I must be off.  With all of those words that fell and the roof not being strong enough to hold them, I have a terrible mess to clean up before our guests arrive tomorrow.  Now should I use a mop or an oversize eraser?

Until next time,

~Trixie Archer